


Withdrawal Symptoms

by Catminty



Series: Pleasure Is Best Served Forced [5]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Implied Torture, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Multi, Obsession, Off-screen Character Death, Oral Sex, Power Play, Psychopaths In Love, Public Sex, Rape, Restraint, Sex Toys, Skull Fucking, Sticky Sex, Tentacles, Throat Knotting, Violence, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-18
Updated: 2013-05-28
Packaged: 2017-12-05 18:38:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 10,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/726549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catminty/pseuds/Catminty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been several solar cycles since Tarn's <em>prey</em> has been at his tender mercies. He expresses his loneliness the only way a member of the DJD can.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Missing His Prey

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Headcannon: Now accepting crazy kink requests. Offer any specific kink, and it just might show up in future chapters. Author has no squicks.

Silence stretched throughout what once used to be a small, Neutral settlement. Lifeless optics stared blindly from pain and horror stricken faceplates. Piles of body parts soiled the main street through the settlement. A guttural growl resonated in harmony with the howling wind as yet another piece of still-warm plating was tossed with its siblings in the littered streets.

All that reminded were five mecha and a sea of parts strewn viciously across the energon-soaked earth.

The job was simple: Find one wayward Decepticon deserter, dispose of one wayward Decepticon deserter, and continue on with other missions. _Not_ decimate an entire settlement of more than fifty Neutrals that handed over the truant without any unnecessary provocation.

Four members of the Decepticon Justice Division gave their leader a wide berth so that he could vent out his aggression. Tarn had been in a _mood_ even before this chase had started. No one was stupid enough to say anything about it, which was why the other four members remained functioning.

In spite of this, Tarn had to be stopped.

Clamped, red armor plating puffed up in preparation for what had to be done. His teammates offered wary pings. Just because Tarn stopped dismantling a snuffed frame did not mean he was anywhere near calm. The fact that he was just sitting there, staring at his dented, energon-soaked servos spoke volumes of his current state of processor. There was a good chance this was a suicide mission.

Kaon strode casually toward the hunched over form of his leader. Normally, Tarn did not have many emotions. Slaughtering could be seen as anger, but he was never really angry at his targets. One can notice that you can’t spell “slaughter” without “laughter,” and Tarn _did_ get some enjoyment from his job. But… Oh, he was digressing. Basically, Tarn didn’t _do_ emotional displays. But right then, his actions were screaming for all to hear how much pain he was in.

How much he _missed_ _him_.

Wisely keeping some distance until given permission otherwise, Kaon sent a non-intrusive ping inquisitively toward his target. Armor flared fiercely, tire treads churned angrily, and _burning_ field lashed out angrily in an outward show of hate.

But the communications officer knew better. He would not have survived traveling with a group of nearly licentious murderers otherwise. Not that he, himself, wasn’t a miscreant as well. He certainly had his own little black datapad of kills. There was that one mech whose circuits he fried until all but the vitals burnt out, one by one. It took _orns_. A shiver went through Kaon’s frame from the sweet memory. Then he had the medics repair the delinquent just so he could start the process all over again…

Rustling of loose parts brought Kaon’s errant thoughts back to the present. Tarn was stalking toward him with murder in his field. Right. Best not to let the processor wander when his deprived, lovesick leader was on a homicidal rampage. He raised his servos in appeasement.

::Now now, there is no need to be rash.:: The stalking did not cease. Instead, Tarn made a slow, calculative circle around his newly acquired target. Electricity zapped from the red mech’s Tesla coils in a nervous display. ::I have orders from Megatron.::

That, at least, brought pause. Tarn loomed in closer at Kaon’s back; his sheer ability to dwarf the communications officer brought up all sorts of negative numbers in his chance-of-survival process running in the background. An energon-soaked servo made contact with Kaon’s upper armstrut, and the slow, almost sensual slide down toward his wrist caused his coils to spark once more. “ _Lord_ Megatron,” Tarn corrected sensually, faceplate near the smaller mech’s audial. “When did _Lord_ Megatron send you this message?”

A shudder tickled down Kaon’s backstruts. He quickly forwarded the message to his leader. Thank Primus he received it only a klik prior. Otherwise he was sure Tarn would rip his spark out for delaying its delivery.

It was a heavy, tense breem as the message was received, unlocked with specially coded officer permissions, and absorbed. The servo still on Kaon’s arm gripped tightly, he feared momentarily that he might lose that appendage, but then it gently soothed the minor dents it caused. The rampaging leader’s errant field slowly relaxed into its calm, normal state.

Then, Tarn purred happily. “We are heading back to central command.” The four remaining mechs deflated in relief.  “Lord Megatron is in urgent need of my assistance.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will have multiple chapters! Yes, there will be quite a bit more, ahem, _explicit_ content. I will also add to the warnings as the chapters are uploaded.
> 
> For now I must work on homework! D:


	2. Returning To Central Command

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm filing an abuse report! Headcannon, put down that bat!!

He was back.

After solar cycles of being away from central command, the mech that caused many a reflux was back with a vengeance. Some fools forgot just how terrifying he was. Gossips, potential aggressors, even those that looked at him the wrong way--They paid a painful price. One made the mistake of getting in his way. The poor sap ended up as a crumpled, smoking mess on the floor.

After those few careless mech made their mistakes, all of the others were wise enough to give him and his team more than enough room to get to their destination.

Because he had to see Lord Megatron.

The doorway to the command deck opened slowly. Somewhere within the bowels of the base, a terrified repairmech received a detailed report on the _discipline_ he would receive shirking his duty. 

The loud argument echoing within the room came to an unnatural halt at the mech's appearance. By a quick glance they wisely decided to shut up in favor of the alternative. After all, there was no real need to permanently silence any officers that were wise enough to heed the mech's warnings. 

Leaving his team, he silently stalked inside to find Megatron sitting on his throne. However, he looked far from relaxed; Tense servos gripped the metal armrests so hard that the supporting structure shook, armor plating flared in a hostile state, and a vicious scowl etched deeply into those battle-scarred faceplates. He had been fighting with Starscream quite heated just astroseconds ago. Speaking of that idiot...

"Oh," Starscream drawled with a snear. " _You're_ back." He cackled darkly. "Did Lord Megatron's faithful little turbofox finally get his head out of his own aft enough to find his way home?"

"Starsceam..." Megatron growled out a warning. It was too late. Faster than either of them could process, the mech closed the distance between himself and the pompous glitch. Starscream was flung so fiercely across the room that he resounded off the wall, spun in a wild flail, and landed in a heap a distance away. 

Megatron, for his part, actually reared back in shock. It had been a long time since he had seen the mech deal out punishment first-hand. It would almost have been arousing. If not for that one, not-quite tiny detail that he couldn't take his optics off of.

"Thirty-seven."

It was said so quietly that the commander thought his audios had picked up a false signal. That was until a furious red streak of light cut in his direction. "Thirty. Seven."

He scrambled to try to figure out what his subordinate was taking about. Sure, he could take the mech without a doubt, but not without sustaining serious if not spark-threatening damage himself. Best to try and play it off. "Yes. Thirty-seven." Megatron nodded his helm in mock confidence. He turned his helm to the side to avoid that piercing gaze and waved a servo aloofly. 

The mech shook in rage, servos clenched in such hard fists at his sides that the plating creaked in protest. The pain only seemed to fuel his fury further. He stalked forward with a murderous intent. "Thirty-seven separate requests. Thirty-seven requests for assistance, order of desist, hold order, _anything_." 

Two small, blue servos latched onto the warlord's scarred armstruts with powerful torque. As the smaller mech leaned menacingly closet into his lord's personal space, Megatron shifted further back uneasily. He just... He had to avoid _that_!

Soundwave held his ground when Megatron pushed flush against the back of his throne. They sat there for an excessively long klik; Soundwave's glaring visor, scorching field, and looming presence did not do as much intimidating as... As...

A hiccuping intake broke the silence. The tapedeck lowered his helm to his leader's shoulder as a full-frame shudder shook his weak frame. "Query..."

Oh. Oh no. 

Soundwave keened. "Why?"

_Slag!_ A different kind of terror consumed the warlord when his obviously insane third-in-command proceeded to collapse on top of him, wrap puny little arms around his neck, and _cry_ his optics out. 

What was worse was that _it_ was touching him. 

Megatron never sent a comm transmission faster before in all his time online. Then again, he never had his stotic communications officer break down on him before, let alone doing so literally _on_ his lap. 

He needed the one responsible for...this! ::Send a message to the DJD. I need them back at base at once.:: Megatron's plating crawled when Soundwave burrowed in closer for comfort the warlord just could not offer. He started getting frantic. ::No. I don't fragging CARE about the expense!:: 

They needed Tarn. NOW!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes! This was a (sort of) prequel. :B


	3. A Shocking Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Solar cycle = 1 year  
> Vorn = 83 years

All of the stops were pulled to get the DJD to central command ASAP. Not only did they have their own personal warp bridge sent in, but there were also mechs that came through just to ensure that they found it and went through as fast as possible. That kind of service required a large expenditure of energon.

It was impressive, a befitting show of Lord Megatron's power.

The still-simmering Tarn ripped off the arm if a mech that tried to guide him through the gate. Tarn was _not_ a mech to be led. He and his team strode through the gate and marched to the command deck. It was curious how the near-empty path was littered with a trail of damaged mechs. Perhaps one of the turncoats finally installed a pair of bearings and attacked the facility? A smirk spread wide behind the purple facemask bearing the Decepticon insignia. This could be fun.

~-~-~

"A-Apologies, Lord Megatron," Soundwave monotoned quietly from his position at his lord's peds, sitting subserviently on his bent legs. "Mood swings: Prevalent since second solar cycle. Affects: Debilitating in best of situations." A soft _sherk_  hissed as the silver facemask retracted. The tapedeck wiped under his optics to rid the excess moisture, doing his best to keep his faceplates hidden. 

The warlord, for his part, sat horrified in his throne. "How long have you been..." He gestured to the prominent anomaly in Soundwave's frame. A part of him was afraid to ask in fear that his third-in-command would have another meltdown. 

It caused a fresh stream to fall down Soundwave's bare faceplate. "Three solar cycles," he whimpered.

Megatron's optics darted back and forth frantically as he tried to process that. "But you left for a deep-cover mission!"

"Tarn: Located Soundwave on voyage to destination." He hiccuped, vents shuttering as the suffocating tendrils of emotional overflow gripped his spark. Soundwave wilted and keened softly. 

If he didn't know any better, Megatron might have guessed that there was longing in the way the blue mech wrapped his arms around his own frame. His optics narrowed in process--maybe the obsession wasn't as one-sided as it seemed... "You miss him." 

The shocked and embarrassed look the simple comment invoked was proof enough. "Tarn: Overbearing!" Soundwave spat, though it held little malice. "Brute. Inconsiderate." A set of cooling fans started and aborted with a _scree_. The tapedeck sulked, helm turned to the side in embarrassment.  "...controlling."

It was interesting how Soundwave's loyalty made him incapable of fully denying the claim.

A request of entrance pinged from the door. Megatron looked up sharply, relief making his frame sag. "Enter!"

The hulking leader of the Decepticon Justice Division smoothly glided into the room, but stumbled to a halt once he noticed Soundwave. Though, Megatron mused, it was probably the sight of the tapedeck's swollen, sparkling-laden chassis that was the most shocking.

~-~-~

The thing about carrying is that each gestation is different. Cybertronians vary greatly in size, shape, and specializes attributes. All of these factors influence the mercurial algorithm of the carrier's gestation process. Is the carrier small or large? Smaller frames have a lower supply of nanites right off the bat, meaning the process takes longer. Is the carrier intricately designed or simply structured? Any natural differentiations inherited boost the time required. Does he/she have specialized abilities or only a working frame? There are legends of the to-be-Primes taking upwards to a quarter of a vorn before finally popping out.

But that's considering just the carrier. The creator is a whole different slew of calculations. Then, of course, ancestry comes into play. Now, imagine trying to find the synchronization point where the sparkling takes certain traits from the carrier, creator, and then _their_ creators. That means running calculations for at least six mecha. Primus forbid if one of them had multiple creators. Seekers don't even try.

To calculate even the rough length of time would take longer than the actual gestation period. This has been proven on multiple attempts by some of the greatest scholars. There is also the possibility that the sparklet's coding could go awry and result in a frame that is completely different from its progenitors. That has caused more than a few processor aches for logic councils.

Put simply, carrying times vary.

~-~-~

"Basically, Soundwave is small and specialized in both frame and function. Likewise, Tarn is also specifically designed. But the fact that he is...larger than most means the sparkling will also be naturally larger. Thus, we get a long, drawn out gestation period." Sleek, black plating rippled unconsciously in concern. "The sparklet is obviously large already." The cybercat eyed his host's protruding midsection from his location in the shadows. Hopefully they were at least half way... "But given two extremely vocal- and audio- gifted progenitors, it could take much longer for the nanites to build its specialized parts."

All five symbiotes sat in the shadows to observe their host and this new "Tarn of events," as Laserbeak had put it. Judging by the whited out visor and the rapidly fluxing range in emotions from Soundwave's side of the symbiotic bond, things probably wouldn't end well. The younger twins looked more than a little unsettled. "But," Frenzy mumbled. He cast a worried glance to his creator. "He's been sparked for three solar cycles." That worried little red visor looked back to Ravage. The cybercat almost felt bad for the shamed, sheepish look on that young faceplate. "...did we take that long?"

Ravage couldn't help but inwardly grin at his sibling's innocence. "Oh? You and Rumble?" The other mini in question looked over sharply. "Hmm, how long did you two take?" Ravage stared up at the rafters in mock-thought. A paw lifted to tap his chin in deep contemplation, causing the two mini-mechs to slowly shrink back in fear of what the answer could be.

"Obviously not this long," Rumble stammered through a forced laugh. "'Cause, yeah, we're minis and all. Couldn't have been this long."

His twins confidence boosted Frenzy's morale. "Y-Yeah!" The red helm nodded fiercely, as if his own firm belief could affect the answer. "'Cause we're smaller!" He laughed nervously. "Duh!"

Ravage slowly dragged his gaze down from the rafters and leveled one of his famous stares on his younger brothers. That shut up their nervous rabble. He haunches his shoulderplates and flicked his tail back and forth in mock irritation. The twins gulped in unison, then jumped when Buzzsaw appeared behind them, darkly muttering, "Vorns..." 

"H-He'll be like this..." Rumble muttered, terrified. 

"...for VORNS?!" Frenzy finished in his namesake. The twins screamed and fled in terror. 

Ravage and Buzzsaw shared a prideful look. Twins: Pranked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This new layout is buggy. ._.


	4. Sharing Is Caring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, what you all read this story for: The sex!

It was not the sight of Soundwave's swollen abdomen that caused Tarn to stumble to a halt. Rather, it was the fit his logic processor was having over the need to reclaim and the need to destroy. The tapedeck had assumably gone AWOL shortly after their last encounter all those solar cycles ago. An elaborate hoax went to extreme ends to prove his deactivation, showcasing a melted, beat to slag frame that was hauled in to central that somehow fooled the Decepticon high-ups to officially report him as offline. Tarn, himself, examined the frame privately. Rage fueled him when he discovered that it was a fake, because his prey had a telling claim mark that only the two of them knew of.

The sight of Soundwave kneeling at his master's peds, distraught, ticked his logic processor into concluding that the deserter was caught and desperately begging for his life. Primus, Tarn looked forward to doling out the punishment. Yet... He tilted his helm, optics narrowed as he examined the stunned blue mech. Snuffing his spark did not seem a worthy punishment. Perhaps there were other ways to make him suffer.

"Lord Megatron," Tarn purred. He stalked to his lord's throne and knelt reverently. However, his optics were locked firmly on the blue form shrinking in on itself. "You requested my audience?" A sadistic tendril twisted in his energy field. He flicked it into Soundwave's vicinity, causing the smaller mech to flinch.

It tool a klik for Megatron to compose himself enough for an answer. To be expected. It wasn't every orn that one of your most loyal mecha betrayed you. The warlord sat up straight, leveling a stern look on his betrayer. "Soundwave. Report to Knock Out."

Soundwave looked up at their leader, shock and relief warring across his bared lower faceplate. "Yes, Lord Megatron." He rose awkwardly and beat a hasty retreat. Tarn's narrowed optics remained locked on the retreating form--he wouldn't get far.

"Tarn," Megatron muttered wearily. He hunched down in his throne and ran a servo over his helm. "As you saw, Soundwave is..." He gestured vaguely in a crescent shape over his chassis. At Tarn's nod of affirmation, he continued, "Yes, well. The lesion is yours, and it is driving my third-in-command insane. It is your responsibility to get him back to working order as quickly as possible."

There would be no discipline? "My lord? If I may?" Megaton grunted his acknowledgement for continuation. "Lord Megatron, he abandoned the cause."

Rich, roaring laughter in response to his serious question left him more than a little perplexed. "Soundwave? Abandoning the cause?" Megatron chuckled heartily. "No. Soundwave served as a deep-cover agent for the past three solar cycles. He has put his helm on the line more times than I can count." Megatron smirked, tone taking on a purposefully irritating quality. "He is my most loyal Decepticon."

It irked the purple mech to no end that he was still considered second best. Oh, he would make Soundwave _pay_. "What would my lord have me do?" he asked darkly. 

"Do whatever the medics order." Megatron waved his servo in dismissal, obviously done with the conversation. 

Tarn left to go track down his wayward charge, simmering in rage once more. Indeed, Soundwave would suffer.

~-~-~

_Earlier_...

"The puny one is in there, we saw him when Tarn went in. Why the frag do we have to wait out here?" grumped Tesarus. He and the other three members of the DJD sat in waiting at Kaon's request. Helex and Vos were at least curious for about what was happening, so their encouragement made the shredder stay.

Kaon smirked. ::What do hunted mech do when cornered?:: he pinged to the other three.

Oh. Crossing both sets of arms, Tesarus turned away with a harrumph. It was always hard to convince the mech to do anything. "Well why the frag is Tarn so obsessed with such a weaking?"

"While he is weak physically, the little mech is far from powerless," Vos said, vocalization carrying a wispy cant. 

Kaon shifted uneasily, plates ruffling in a wary gesture. ::Say what you want to us, but be careful to not say something like that in front of Tarn. He would probably shove one of your limbs into your grinder. While it was on.::

A few breems of uncomfortable, awkward silence passed. Kaon perked up, picking up an interesting tidbit from the conversation in the command room. ::Helex. Catch him.::

Vos and Tesarus looked up, confused, but Helex simply nodded. Just a klik later, Soundwave came bustling out of the room. When the two sets of servos snagged him securely, he made the little squeak that Kaon missed so dearly. Soundwave struggled in the firm hold around his frame. "R-Release! Soundwave: On mission ordered by Lord Megatron!"

Kaon sauntered up to the trapped tapedeck and ran a teasing digit down his facemask. He crooned sweetly, ::Of course! Let us assist you, Commander Soundwave. After all, you're in no state to...:: His other servo caressed Soundwave's abdominal plating. ::Push yourself.:: He smirked at the blue mech's erratic field; _someone_ didn't like their bump being rubbed. He made sure to fondle the stomach more. Oh, Kaon loved how it made him squirm. ::Come, mechs! To the medbay!::

~-~-~

They poked, prodded, and scanned every available nook and cranny on his frame. Every invasive touch made him squirm a little more. It was embarrassing how their insistence made his valve slicken and squeeze itself hungrily.

That was even before they got to the medbay. Fraggers took their time getting there. So once the true examination began, Soundwave had to endure being felt up by the flashy, self-indulgent medic. He was already running hot with charge before they got there. Denta grinding together, Soundwave glared with all his might when the red dolt found it excessively necessary to test his valve's lining.

"It's extremely necessary," Knock Out purred. "You wouldn't want to lose any of that precious transfluid for your growing newspark when you get fragged into the berth, now would you?"

Primus, what he wouldn't give to be able to wipe that smirk off the red idiot's faceplates. It was a bit hard to fight when, well, you were pinned to the berth, a mech holding down each limb, and a daring medic was too close for comfort in between your forcefully spread legs. If anything, at least the tapedeck had his stubborn, tempered control over his own frame. "Negative. Test: Unnecessary."

Knock Out pouted. "Oh? But it is!"

A ping including an excerpt from a medical training file made him groan. He dropped his helm back onto the berth with a _clunk._ The medic snarked at his victory. Frag, he was right. But that didn't mean Soundwave was going to make it easy.

"See? I'm just trying to do my job." Knock Out leaned down and ran his glossa in a broad swipe across Soundwave's heated interface panel. The tapedeck arched at the sudden stimulation. He scowled at his frame's sensitivity.

A caress to his audial made him shudder. "You like that, don't you?" Vos. Tingles flew up his backstruts as the seeker whispered quietly, "Tarn has told us about you, about your joy in being dominated." The seeker punctuated his words with a tighter grip and a firm tug on the arm that he held prisoner. 

Soundwave shied away from the vocal molestation and keened softly when the arm was pulled just so, causing a slight tingle of pain that sprayed static across his vision. "Nega-TIVE!" He squeaked when his panel retracted and exposed his swollen, heated valve to the crisp air of the room. Fragging medical overrides!

"Oh my. Hmm..." Knock Out leaned in to examine the exposed hardware. "Yes, this will need a thorough examination." He ran a digit through the thin lubricant staining the array. 

Soundwave flexed in an attempt to move his aft further away from the exploring digits. A servo, he didn't know whose, pinned his hips to the berth. A fresh trickle of moisture poured out as a digit pushed through the tight entrance. It slid in slowly, collecting an alarming amount of charge from mere friction. Soundwave closed his optics tightly and clenched as hard as he could to possibly discourage the intruder. It only encouraged the servo to twist, digit curled at the right angle to scrape across a node. The tapedeck shouted breathlessly, unprepared for the sneak attack. It's owner then teased the node firmly until he squirmed uncontrollably. Knock Out's high-performance engine revved, making the berth vibrate deliciously.

The blue communications officer wilted as five hungry fields smothered his own in his struggles. It was distinctly disconcerting to realize how comfortable they were in sharing their arousal. There was no escape. He whimpered softly, trying to deny his pulsing valve and the needy grab of his field. "Tarn.."

A glossa replaced the digit in his valve. It wriggled and flexed skillfully along the quivering lining, spiking the charge higher and higher until all Soundwave could do was arch against the table, visor whited out. He drew in great heaves of ventilation to cool his overcharged frame, but it was for naught. The five frames around him unashamedly washed him with their scorching exvents. Soundwave twisted and bucked desperately, but each limb was held securely and each movement seemed to push that wicked glossa deeper into his flooded valve. 

The digit returned, sliding itself and a sibling in alongside the glossa to frag him senseless. "Ngh!" Soundwave thrashed in a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable. He wouldn't! He couldn't!

"Soundwave," An overbright visor shot online at the purr. Tarn stood at the helm of the berth, leaning over so his helm was just micrometers from his own. "Overload." At the sensual command, the fierce overload Soundwave had been resisting ran trails of fire through his lines. He screamed his release to the universe as the pleasure consumed his frame entirely. Circuitry fried, his vocalizer shorted out, and his vision filled with static as the tidal wave slowly ebbed away to a sea of darkness.


	5. Discipline

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarn's punishment doesn't have the desired effects.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! Sticky! This is to make up for yesterday's horrifically short sticky. I hope it is to your liking.
> 
> I dedicate this chapter to the sadists out there. I think Headcanon is a sadist by the way I'm beaten...

Tarn sat his unconscious prey down on the floor in his berthroom. Thorough care was given to secure ties and ropes around Soundwave's arms, securing them horizontally behind his backstruts. He hummed to himself as he situated the form into a position where he sat, kneeling and facing the berth.

The large mech sat down on the berth and examined Soundwave. A small smile stayed hidden behind his mask as he ran a servo lovingly across the gestation chamber that held his newspark. Psychopathic mass murderer or not, Tarn was still a mech. Most mechs want to have a sparkling at some point in their functioning. He was looking forward to what their sparkling would be gifted with.

The soft sounds of boot up sequences gave him just enough time to compose himself. He sat back, arms crossed, and made sure that his field had an extra bit of negativity in it. Soundwave wobbled uneasily from his position at Tarn's peds. He looked pained, though the purple mech stubbornly ignored the grimace. This orn was not about comfort or caring. Lord Megatron's orders to take care of his precious third-in-command ran circles around his helm. No, he crossed his arms tighter around his chassis, it was time he taught his pet his place in this short-term assignment.

Warm, red visor light lit their frames in the dim room. Soundwave looked around warily in assessment of his newfound situation and his visor brightened considerably when he realizes just how screwed he was. Tarn smirked as Soundwave tried to subtly shy away.

"Remove your mask," he ordered simply. The tapedeck shuddered and surprisingly obeyed. The lower mask slid away, revealing denta worrying his derma. Tarn purred at the sight. "Visor," he rumbled, leaning closer. Soundwave hesitated briefly, as if contemplating the worth of resisting, then slid the transsteel device up into his helm. His scarlet optics stared submissively down at the floor in waiting for his next command.

Tarn's engines revved at the display. Frag, he wanted to just destroy that tight little valve that moment. But he kept himself in check, instead giving himself the pleasure of releasing his spike. Soundwave looked up briefly, then huddled in on himself in fear. The purple mech wrapped a servo around the back of his prey's neck and leaned him toward the turgid length. He struggled weakly, probably unsure how to fight, because of all the times Tarn had his fun with his prey they had never done this. "Soundwave," his vocalization made his prey shiver. "You have been a bad mech." He fished around in his sunspace for that special item he was saving for this.

Soundwave shook his helm frantically, "Negative. Negative! Soundwave: Has done nothing to--" The tapedeck was cut off to a flurry of movement and whimpers as Tarn tried to secure a gag into his oral cavity. He keened, turning his helm sharply to try to stop the devise from being clipped in place on the back of his helm. The tapedeck wiggled and shook, effectively slowing the process. 

Enraged, Tarn slapped his prey hard across the cheekplate. It stunned Soundwave enough that he was able to secure the gag in place. "That is what happens when you disobey." 

He expected Soundwave to be angry or hurt. He expected rage-filled optics to glare up at him defiantly or teary optics to ask _'Why?'_ He did _not_ expect that helm to obediently stay turned where the slap had moved it or for cooling fans to start up.

Tarn stared, shocked, as Soundwave's optics darkened in lust.

Experimentally, he ran a black servo across the scuffed cheekplate. Tarn's cooling fans flicked on when Soundwave's optics fluttered shut and he nuzzled into the caress.

"That is better," he praised, guiding the gagged mech to his painfully hard spike. The hollow gag was specially made to flex and expand if the receiver was of substantial proportions. Tarn was, of course, more than substantial. It slowly expanded, stretching Soundwave's jaw as the head of his spike nudged into the warm, wet cavity. His prey whimpered when the head of his spike was nestled in that attractive mouth.

He looked up at his master--because that was exactly what Tarn was--and keened softly. Whether it was in pain or pleasure, Tarn did not care. He secured a servo behind his prey's helm and thrust. Soundwave gagged, intakes shuddering when the spike brushes against it. Tarn growled, pulled Soundwave's helm closer, and angled him so his neckcables formed a straight line. He snapped his hips forward, reveling in the muffled whimper when his spike slid all the way inside.

The purple mech leaned back and looked at the pretty picture. Soundwave sitting between his legs, derma stretched tight over his engorged spike. The tapedeck's throat flexed around the massive, unmoving length, sending static into his vision. Oh, the way he subconsciously cupped a servo around his dangling midsection sent tingles through Tarn's circuitry. He would make a good carrier. 

Tarn brushed his servo across Soundwave's cheekplate. Small beads of moisture gathered in the trapped mech's optics. He was not distraught, rather he was choking on the spike rammed down his intakes. At least oral ventilation was a secondary form of venting.

Tarn rotated his hips slowly. Soundwave winced as the spike shifted, making contact with new sensors. The servo holding the blue helm forced it down harder, causing the throat to ripple even more against the invading spike. They both moaned at the stimulation. Tarn's grip eased, and he slowly lifted the helm off his spike until just the tip was inside. He then forced it back down, slowly, through the resistant cabling.

Each time Soundwave's nasal ridge brushed against Tarn's abdominal plating, his throat spasmed in the most delicious way. They continued at the slow, relaxed pace for several breems. Tears poured down Soundwave's faceplate. Though they were a natural reaction caused by the continuous fragging of his throat, Tarn liked to imagine they were from pain and fear. Soundwave's soft whimpers helped to fuel his rape fantasy.

"Hn," he hummed. Who said it had to be a fantasy? Charge danced across his glossy spike on Soundwave's slow rise to the head. Pulling out, Tarn stood from the berth and shifted his prey so that his helm was at spike-level. He wrapped both servos around Soundwave's helm, taking sinister glee in the terrified expression, and snapped his hips forcefully into his throat. Soundwave gagged, Tarn moaned. He picked up the pace and proceeded to pound relentlessly into the spasming channel.

Soundwave whimpered and gagged until he angled his helm correctly to allow the spike an easy path into his throat. Once he fell into a routine of suck-swallow, he relaxed into the onslaught. Tarn growled ferally and ground his spike deep into the oral cavity, eliciting a rich moan from his prey.

A seductive scent filled the room. Tarn looked down mid-thrust to see a tentacle extend from the smaller mech's back, slithering almost desperately into his valve. The tapedeck moaned around the spike as a thick length of wriggling mass disappeared into the depths. 

Lust overwhelmed Tarn's sensors, forcing him into a fierce overload. He thrust deep into the clenching oral cavity, moaning as it milked his spike. His spike swelled larger as spurt after spurt of transfluid poured down Soundwave's intakes. Scarlet optics shot online when the spike swelled to the point that it couldn't move. Soundwave stared up at his master, faceplates flush with charge, and silently begged for reprieve even though the lubricant-soaked tentacle worked faster in his valve. 

Tarn growled at the display. "More," he ordered, and two more appendages squelched their way into the tapedeck's valve. Soundwave moaned at the added stimulation. "More!" Tarn growled.

Five tentacles coiled around each other and wriggled experimentally. Soundwave bucked at the stimulation of being filled past his comfort levels at both ends. "Frag yourself harder. Faster!"

The tapedeck keened, mindlessly fragging himself hard enough that he forced the engorged spike deeper down his intakes. Growling, Tarn purposely flexed his spike harder in the throat just to send his prey over the edge. It was more than enough. Soundwave's muffled moan vibrated sensually along Tarn's spike. His tentacles sped up, sloshing in and out of the valve as his overload released copious amounts of lubricant.

Unable to hold back any longer, Tarn ripped his spike free of Soundwave's mouth, pushed him roughly down on his back, and slammed his spike into the still-spasming valve. The added tightness of the tentacles only heightened his arousal. Soundwave shrieked in pleasure, helm thrown back, as Tarn fragged him into the floor. The tentacles continued to thrust in and out alongside his spike, creating even more friction in the cramped space. 

Big black servos forced the smaller blue and white legs up as far as they could go.  Soundwave overloaded again and again as he was relentlessly pounded by the larger mech. Soon, the overwhelming pleasure became too much. Tarn roared, thrust painfully deep within the tight valve, and overloaded. The tentacles tentatively removed themselves without either mech realizing it to make room for the flood of transfluid.

Tarn nuzzled close. His prey shook faintly as his spike swelled once more, inhibiting any movement or chance to flee. A few more blasts of transfluid pooled deep within the tight valve. Primus, that felt good. Tarn offlined his optics and encompassed the smaller frame beneath his own, taking care to not put weight on the gestation chamber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tarn has feels? What?!


	6. Secrets Kept

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two sides to every coin. This is Soundwave's.

The most believable lies have a kernel of truth. For Soundwave, his lies were based off substantial evidence. His valve suffered scarring from previous flux-worthy experiences that would require a lining replacement to fix. In war times, such a procedure would be frivolous at best. 

It was his ace in the hole; his evidence. It was why the Autobots learned to trust him after they warily accepted him and his family into their care. The last time his torturer caught him was while he was on the run on that sparked ship so long ago. Soundwave showed up in surrender on the Autobot's doorstep worse for wear, because that monster did nothing in halves. 

The plan was foolproof. All he had to do was infiltrate the ranks and give plenty of "vital" information when asked. Some of it was potentially compromising for his true allegiance, but it was nothing outside of the list of materials the top Decepticon officers originally drew together. It was a tedious process as it was difficult for the notoriously loyal Con to be trusted. 

The sparkling was the tipping point, or rather, the true breakdown the discovery caused was.

He earned their pity, their concern. Trust grew as slowly as delicate Polyhexian crystals, and he eventually gained bits and pieces of the knowledge the mission was designed for. He was taken in, accepted as a refuge on the run. They took care of him. 

Embers of apprehension grew in Soundwave's spark as he got closer and closer to completion. But he took solace in the reward he would earn. Lord Megatron was to grant him a single favor: his first real request ever made throughout his vorns serving his lord.

All of that compiled together in a mass of problems compounded when he received a desperate, deeply-encoded message from the Autobots he took sanctuary with. ::Sweetspark?:: Soundwave's tanks churned uneasily. He had been "captured," spirited away from their care. It had been carefully staged, just as his false deactivation when he supposedly fled the Decepticon ranks. 

::Babe? Are you alright?:: 

The large form laying possessively over him nuzzled closer. Soundwave quelled the fear that spun his spark tightly, the fear that the message was somehow intercepted by the beast. 

His messenger grew desperate as the silence stretched. ::Please respond!::

::This channel is secure,:: Came the calm ping from another, though he could still sense the second's distress. 

It was difficult for Soundwave to remain calm as his tormentor pressed against his side, rumbling hungrily. The first was failing to keep his cool. ::What are your coordinates? Are you in Decepticon command?::

Rough servos forced Soundwave on his knees, faceplate pressed into the berth. A thick, heavy presence pushed into his abused entrance. The monster ignored his whine of pain the unprepared breach caused in favor of quick, deep thrusts. 

::Soundwave?:: The first tried again. ::Babe, you gotta help us find you.::

Did he want to be found? It was hard to think after the three orns without recharge. Now that the initial desire from his unborn sparkling's calling to its sire was gone, Soundwave was displaced. Nothing made sense anymore. Everything hurt. 

Why did he come back to this?

The mech finished with a deep thrust and reverberating growl that sent the quivering blue mech into his own euphoria. 

There was pleasure. Primus, there was so much pleasure in bring claimed and bent to another's will. Soundwave was a mech that needed to serve by nature. He took pride in serving his master in whatever ways were asked of him. But this...

Servos that had sported the energon of hundreds if not thousands of mechs flipped him once more. Viscous, unforgiving optics glared down as the mech ground out an order. There was pleasure, but there was always pain. 

This was not serving a mech. 

Soundwave obeyed, because that's what he was supposed to do. Flickering light bathed their frames as the subservient mech bared his spark to his master. The beast ran a clawed digit carelessly just inside his spark casing, releasing a pleased growl when he found the glyph still gouged deeply in the sensitive plating. The scratching exploration caused the tapedeck to wince. His reaction only seemed to please his captor. 

He was a possession.

Something that could still somehow be broken, he realized as tears blurred his vision. The Autobots had made him weak. The friends he and his Cassettes had earned, the lovers that held him as fluxes threatened to break him managed to somehow worm their way into his spark. 

Dents formed along his armstruts as they were forcefully pinned above his helm. More light poured into the room as the large chestplate above his own split.

He was a fool to think the comfort he took in the Autobots would somehow remain a secret. Sharp pain lanced through Soundwave's spark as his master tore through his carefully constructed firewalls, ravaging the defenses that held his secret life. 

At least he could not be rutted into at this angle, not with his gestation chamber so large now. The pain/pleasure of the forced spark merger rippled through Soundwave, causing his peds to shake with the intensity. Above him, the monster moaned out his bliss. A forced overload burned fire through his circuits once more. Soundwave whimpered in relief when he was dismounted. He heaved deep ventilations while waiting for the punishment; his traitorous thoughts had to have been discovered. 

One klik passed, two. 

The beast was in recharge, once again wrapped possessively around his prey. Blackness tinged the edges of Soundwave's vision. He was safe, for now; perhaps he could finally get some recharge...

::Soundwave, don't give up! We'll find you!::

The tapedeck fell into a restless recharge. Memories of loving mechs holding him close fragmented his processor, as did the broken promise from his lord. 

All he asked was to not be hurt by Tarn anymore. 


	7. Helex Attacks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave falls victim to Helex's methods. Onlookers observe, both horrified and sickeningly transfixed.

A soft rap on the door was answered by an approving ping for entry. The large mech waited exactly five astroseconds before activating the door and stepping inside. On the berth the carrier dozed in an exhausted lump while Tarn roamed about the berthroom at an unhurried pace, collecting seemingly random items and storing them in his subspace. Dutifully, Helex stood one pace to the left of the doorway with his optics staring blankly at the opposing wall. His arms rested securely behind his back as he waited. 

"Did you bring everything?" Tarn asked as he picked up a datapad, flipped through it briefly, and set it back in its original spot. The slagpot had to stop himself from twitching. Instead, he nodded gravely. Tarn hummed his amusement. "Then you may take your pleasure while I meet with our Lord."

There was a muffled whimper on the berth. Apparently the carrier was at least half-awake. Tarn stopped at Helex's side on his way out, placing them shoulder to shoulder, and subtly commed, ::Something is wrong. Kaon will stop by soon to investigate.::

Pale yellow forehelm kibble lazily raised in interest at such an open confession. Care was a weakness that had been the demise of many mechs, a number of them being victims of the DJD--Could Tarn be going soft? Helex glanced down at the tapedeck curled weakly on the berth. No, Tarn was most certainly not going soft judging by condition his sparkling's carrier was in. 

Then again... ::Be thorough,:: the purple mech ordered as he left.

The door swished shut, leaving Helex alone with the quivering form. The large mech waited an exact klik in his statue-like posture before attacking. 

Oh, he attacked with a _vengeance._

A terrified warble escaped the flighty tapedeck as Helex lurched forward. The pastel mech grabbed ahold of his struggling target and carried him bridal-style out the door. Desperate, clawless digits dug into his plating in a futile attempt to get free. "Negative!" the carrier cried out. 

They made it to their destination in a timely matter. Being a large mech with longer strides did have some advantages. Slack-jawed onlookers openly gaped as Helex firmly seated the smaller mech onto one of the many low stools in the facility. One of his large servos pressed down on the mech's neck, finally getting him to stop flailing after several pathetic attempts to flee were botched. Meanwhile, Helex's three other servos dug into various subspace pockets and pulled out one of his many weapons for this type of assault. He hunched over his target, instruments at the ready, then...

He attacked!

Fast, furious servos worked in frenzied strokes to rip off layers in extreme prejudice. The surrounding mechs took a terrified step back from the display; there were _rumors_ about Helex's methods, but none dared imagine that they were this extreme. The carrier gasped and twisted as each layer was expelled by Helex's experienced servos. First the arms, back, and chest received a thorough work-over. Then the pastel Decepticon plopped on an adjacent stool, pulled the struggling mech over his lap, and attacked his lower half. 

Once the brunt of the offending outer coating was removed, Helex used his finer instruments to finish out the details. Yes. This would be one of his better works. 

With his procedure came overstimulation of newly-exposed circuitry connections. The tapedeck whimpered and cried out intermittently between rough strokes and soft swipes. Helex used a spare servo to pull out one of his strongest concoctions to eat away what remained, liberally lathing it across the shaking mech. This rendered new gasps, and the carrier shook faintly in Helex's vicegrip of a hold. 

By the time he finished running the last few final scans to check his work, the carrier had collapsed, strutless, in his lap. Reaching up to angle one of the sprayer heads, Helex shifted his lap of exhausted, _clean_ carrier to wash the remainder of the cleanser from his plating. There had been countless layers if grime and muck caked onto his plating and deep within his joint--it was enough to make Helex's plating crawl. 

Satisfied, the slagpot rose, charge cradled in his smaller arms, and headed back to Tarn's quarters. A grim line set his derma from the looks of shock the other mechs gave him. 

What? He was a perfectionist. If Tarn told him to clean the carrier up, Helex was going to fragging do it right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter. I just needed some funny!fluff. Headcanon keeps trying to turn this into some sort of emotional rollercoaster that's run off its tracks and is now bowling for cows covered in Christmas lights in the Milky Way. 
> 
> Yeah, I don't get it either.


	8. Kaon's Devotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps Tarn isn't as sparkless as he makes himself out to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This was hard to put into words. I've been trying to write this out for almost a month now. I've actually been put into a bit of an emotional slump because I just couldn't get it done. Hence why I made sad!Grimlock. :[
> 
> It's such a relief to have this part out. 
> 
> Warning: Lots of drama.

Resting his helm on a servo, Kaon casually tilted his untouched cube of high grade. Things were not going so well for his small "family" of sorts. Foul feelings between the DJD left everyone grumpy and outwardly negative. Kind of like Tesarus on an average day, only team wide. Tensions were high enough that even a slight offense could cause their delicate balancing act to implode into a massacre. 

A slim, red digit absently traced the rim of the cube. Kaon wanted things to go horribly wrong. His battle protocols counted fifteen ways the current exchange could end, nine of which resulted in Tarn's death.

Background programs updated various tactics of surviving should Tarn lose his cool. Normally, Kaon worked through misdirection and subterfuge to accomplish his goals, but sometimes Tarn was so shortsighted when he focused on his obsessions. It caused too much sparkache and it had to be stopped. That was part of the reason why Kaon handled this situation so bluntly.

Sightless optics shifted to the dangerously still tank, though the electrocutioner observed his commander's reactions through security feeds. A datapad containing a very specific vid file cast a faint blue glow on the purple mech's facemask. The red time stamp dated over two solar cycles prior glared up angrily amidst the calming colors. Softly spoken glyphs filtered through the tinny speakers.

_"Soundwave,"_ Megatron's voice echoed in their dark little corner of the quiet bar. _"You're making a request?"_

_"Affirmative,"_ Soundwave's softer voice sent a tremor through Tarn's shoulder. _"Request: Order of desist."_

Suspicion laced Megatron's deep vocalization. _"'Order of desist'? What is the meaning of this?"_

On the fuzzy screen, Soundwave prostrated himself as lowly as he had during their initial encounter. _"I cannot take it anymore,"_ he whispered brokenly. Kaon could not stop the flux of emotion that burned through his own lines. Even after the first three play-throughs in the quiet of his personal quarters, Kaon still had to grit his denta to stop himself from reacting. For Soundwave--his idol, the mech he had secretly loved from afar--to become broken enough to lose grip of his iron control...

Part of Kaon wanted to kill Tarn, wanted to make him suffer for all the wrongs that he had done. He had it all planned out. It would be a painful, miserable death the likes of which even they had not dared to commit. 

Then, just orns after finding the recording, Tarn came to his doorstep, asking for help. He requested guidance on how to make Soundwave happy. After everything he had done, he was stupid enough to think that he could make Soundwave love him.

Running a servo down his tired face, Kaon sighed. If only he didn't care so much about his teammates. If only he really could pull the energon blade from subspace and slide it through the tank's neck cabling. If only he had given Tarn the poisoned energon cube instead of swapping it for the normal one at the last moment. If only he had confessed his undying love to Soundwave before this whole debacle started. If only. /If only.

_"Cruel and unusual punishment,"_ the recording continued on in spite of Kaon's internal torment. _"Lord Megatron, I can't take it anymore."_

The warlord grumbled in the recording. _"Very well. Complete this mission and I will prohibit Tarn from laying a digit on you again."_ A soft whimper of relief sounded, and the video came to an end.

Clawed purple digits gripped the datapad tightly, causing webs of cracks to spread across the dimming screen. Tarn's optics flickered off and his frame began to tremble. 

Scowling, Kaon prepared for the second assault. Small packets of pictures and video clips were sent to barrage Tarn's communication array. Older stills depicted Soundwave before Tarn's emergence into his life; when he was a strong, effective, and happy Decepticon that worked dutifully under their lord. Then more recent imagery flooded his ports. Soundwave was degrading: An invisible weight settled over the once-proud shoulders, he shiny luster of healthy plating softened to a dull matte of sickness. Soundwave rarely spoke before, but now most of his vocalizations consisted of pleas for mercy.

::He was such a great Decepticon,:: Kaon sneered across the comm line. ::You should be ashamed.::

Black and purple digits clenched into a large fist that slammed down onto the table with such force that the tabletop bent inwards. Tarn hung his helm in rage? Shame? "You think I don't know?" he growled lowly. "He's the carrier of my sparkling, the only mech I have ever truly--"

::You don't deserve him!:: Kaon blared through the comm, shocking them both. He stood up and slammed his servos on the table, sending the cube splashing to the side. ::Don't you say it! Don't you pretend!:: Acrid bubbling of the cube's contents melting metal were drown out by another fist slamming on the table. 

"I love him!" Tarn yelled back, glaring angrily at his subordinate. They stared off silently. Plating flared while fans ran redlining to cool their heated frames. What few, brave mechs still lingering in the bar realized their folly and beat a hasty retreat. 

Indignation swelled like a righteous fire in Kaon's tanks. Tarn didn't love him like Kaon did! The tank only took more and more until there was nothing left. How could he ever be a good creator let alone a good mate? His processor screeched in outrage even though he knew it wasn't true.

Then, the one glyph he had never heard the battle-hardened, mass murderer utter broke down his defenses, broke away his suffocating hate. "Please," Tarn begged, helm hung low. "Please, I love him. I would give my life--frame and spark--to protect him even if its from myself."

Of course it was true. In the two solar cycles of Soundwave's disappearance, Tarn ran himself ragged trying to find any sign that he still functioned. Kaon was a silent witness to the times when Tarn pushed himself to damage in desperation and self hate. 

Grief gripped Kaon's spark with its icy tendrils. If only things weren't this way.

The red mech took a shuddering intake. ::If you hurt him again, I will make you suffer a hundred times the pain you inflicted.:: Tarn looked up somberly as Kaon continued. ::I will take him and his sparkling away from you. You will never see us again.:: Tarn nodded in affirmation. 

Perhaps... Perhaps things could be different. A miserable, spark-smothering hope welled in Kaon's spark. 


	9. The Pet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tarn takes small steps to making Soundwave happy. At the same time, Soundwave fights to protect his creations from a rabid sparkeater.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sparkmate doesn't know that I write, let alone that I write TF pr0nz. No one knows I do outside of this community.
> 
> I accidentally pasted a chapter I was working on into a text message conversation Sparkmate and I were sharing. My spark didn't stop racing until I cleared the unsent message. Three times.
> 
> (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

Items were gathered into sacks from shelves and cabinets. Sharp optics analyzed small indents in the walls that held soft bedding of small scale. Tarn would need to create something similar in their quarters. 

_Their_ quarters.

Shiny, flimsy sheets of metal drew his attention. "What is this?" He held up the brightly colored foil for Helex's inspection. 

"Colored aluminum and a bit of silver," the slagpot replied helpfully.

Clinging onto a massive arm, Kaon piped up from Helex's side. ::It's probably 'Beaky's. She loves shiny things.::

Tarn narrowed his optics at the obnoxious metal sheet. Sighing softly, he stowed it in the sack containing the Cassettes' other belongings. 

The trio took it upon themselves to raid Soundwave's quarters. After all, the tapedeck would probably feel more at home surrounded by things from his own room. 

Datapads, bedding, games, and decorations were collected from the disastrously messy room. By the time they were finished, all that remained were a few pieces of large furniture and broken items that were more junk than possessions. Tarn regarded the twitchy mech to his side. 

::Don't worry,:: Kaon cooed, nuzzling into Helex's massive arm. ::You can clean the room as soon as we get everything settled.:: The communications officer gently nudged Helex to the door.

Tarn stared down at the bags of items collected from the room. As a mech that spent the majority of his time on the move, hunting down Decepticon deserters, the idea of possessions making a home was foreign. His brows furrowed in thought. Actually, having a home was foreign. Camps were not homes. Berths and washracks were a luxury he was still becoming acquainted with. 

The idea of having a warm home and a welcoming family to come back to made Tarn happy. He sniffed a soft snort, collecting the bags and heading out the door. 

Happy was weird. But it was a weird he hoped to experience more often. 

~-~-~

Sharp fear streaked down the bond causing Soundwave to jolt into awareness in a haze. He clutched his rounded midsection and sat up quickly. Dizziness swamped the tapedeck's processor, but he stubbornly if slowly rose to his peds.

Something was wrong.

Were they back aboard the sunken Victory? The hallways shifted and swayed dangerously as if under the affect of the shifting undercurrent. Soundwave latched onto a wall and covered his mouth to stop himself from purging. 

Another sharp twinge of fear rippled down the bond. Staggering, he made his way to his Cassettes as fast as his shaking legs allowed. 

There was a scrambling crowd at the scene. The mechs moved away from the epicenter collectively as if avoiding something dangerous. An enraged snarl reverberated off the ceiling followed by a high-pitched yip.

Optics bright, Soundwave charged through the crowd. "Ravage!"

"Soundwave!" Frenzy shouted from on opening in the ceiling.

::Stay back!:: Laserbeak called through the bond. Her small head poked through the opening Frenzy sat worriedly in.

Ignoring his creations, Soundwave pushed through to the arena. Ravage faced off against a turbofox in a viscous fight. Long gashes raked down the cybercat's sleek plating and he panted heavily in obvious pain.

The carrier took a step forward to attack the mechanimal. Energon soaked the flooring; Soundwave  slipped on a puddle growing by a fallen, greyed out frame. His ped clipped a lifeless limb during the slip and stumble, causing him to crash to the ground and release a startled crying of pain. 

Ravage looked back in concern. Taking the distraction, the turbofox ran around the cybercat and jumped at Soundwave's fallen form. However, the crazed animal did not reach its target. It was tacked out of the air by a larger turbofox with an enraged snarl. They fell to the floor some distance away, clawing and biting fiercely at each others plating. Metal groaned, a turbofox shrieked in pain. A shattering crunch sounded as the larger turbofox crushed the smaller's spark casing between its energon-stained denta. Furious optics scanned the surrounding mechs as if in challenge. The creature then turned, stalking over to Soundwave.

Horrified, the tapedeck tried to move back while keeping a protective hand across his midsection. The fallen frame prohibited his escape. Ravage limped forward with the remainder of his strength, but the swift turbofox was on the carrier before even his undamaged siblings could move.

They expected the creature to rip his spark out or attack the unborn sparkling. Instead, it sniffed the distended plating lightly, making sure there was no damage, then laid alongside Soundwave's extended legs. It kept its helm raised in studious watch of the strange mechs surrounding them.

Wide opticed, Soundwave shook as three of his symbiotes gathered to him. He wrapped his arms carefully around Ravage's beaten frame and gently held the cybercat close. Frenzy tried to pull his carrier away from the turbofox as its hackles raised once more.

Thunderous pedsteps echoed down the hall. Enraged shouts turned to screams of fear. Five more turbofoxes tore through the crowd at the same time the three members of the DJD came to the scene. Shouts were muffled by resounding bangs. One turbofox was flattened by Helex's massive ped. Electricity snapped, and a charred frame went skidding across the floor. A distant, blurry view of Tarn ripping a creature in two barely registered to Soundwave's overtaxed processor. "Rumble? Buzzsaw?" he asked his Cassettes quietly.

"They're still bein' chased," Frenzy said in a panic. 

Stark fear sent black, blurry edges around Soundwave's vision. "Location?" The turbofox at his side lunged at another small attacker. 

::Corridor C,:: Laserbeak supplied. Her wings flapped furiously from her perch on Soundwave's shoulders as he moved to rise. ::Carrier in no state to move of own power!::

"Kaon!" Frenzy shouted. The red mech turned as did the tank. "Help Soundwave! Please!"

Tarn rushed over, crouching down even as Soundwave instinctually shied away. "The sparkling?"

"Rumble. Buzzsaw," Soundwave said desperately as he tried to stand. "More sparkeaters. Chasing." He gasped softly when strong arms lifted him effortlessly. The carrier looked back to see Kaon and Helex pick up his three symbiotes. 

"Corridor C!" Rumble shouted.

~-~-~

Turbofox internals littered the floors and energon patches stained the walls. They didn't know how hundreds of the little fraggers managed to worm their way into every available nook and cranny. Maybe a trader had brought them in, maybe they had a nest somewhere deep within the dark corners of the base. Regardless of where they came from, all of the soldiers were set to work to exterminate every last one of the mechanimals. 

A few unfortunate mechs had fallen during the attack, and their greyed out frames laid in lumps with the numerous offlined sparkeaters. Cleanup crews set to work to remedy the grotesque battle. Kaon jokingly noted that for such small creatures, they sure were "juicy."

Only one turbofox survived. The Pet only managed to live because of Kaon's insistence--he had seen his turbofox protect Soundwave through the surveillance equipment as had several witnesses. 

Ravage actually supported the claim. Apparently, The Pet had saved his plating more than once before the others even got there. They hit it off in a friendly, animalistic sort of way. Freshly repaired, the newfound companions laid together on Ravage's plush blanketing on the floor. 

Reclining on the berth, Soundwave stared down at the pair with a serenity he hadn't felt in many orns. His other four Cassettes cuddled close to his side; the stress of the orn's attack wore heavily on their little frames. It was surprising how easily they tired now. The strain the sparkling put on his frame must affect them similarly. 

A large servo ran possessively down his frame. Swallowing down his fear, Soundwave stared down calmly at his symbiotes. The appendage paused its roaming then moved to run up and down his arm. 

"How are you feeling?" Tarn asked suddenly. Warily, Soundwave turned his helm to regard the tank. The purple mech stared down at him patiently even as he floundered for an answer.

"S-Soundwave: Tired," he finally settled on saying. 

Tarn hummed and settled back against the wall at Soundwave's helm. "Then rest. I will keep watch while you recharge."

Fear of a trap briefly crossed his processor. Fear of trusting the monster left him with a processor ache. But the memory of watching Tarn slaughter sparkeaters while working to save his symbiotes. A melodic hum eased the tension from his frame and the feel of the tiny, safe frames cuddled next to his own lulled Soundwave into recharge. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (If you read this, I love you, Sparkmate! -`ღ´-)


End file.
